A Survivor, An Ally to Command
by Nkhen
Summary: Jake finds himself free of the Hole and searching for answers, resolutions and Olivia's genuine affection . A sequel to 'A Spy, An Officer and a Gentleman' following Captain Jacob "Jake" Ballard's story through Season 3
1. Prologue - Light and Shadows

{Episode Prompt - 301}

Impenetrable shadows. Or blinding light. And pain. Excruciating, concentrated pain. Time held no meaning – he lived in a continuum of cold, rustic shabbiness followed by agonizing pain, hurried patching-up and then repetitions and recurrences of the same horror. It was like his life was a nightmarish echo: being blinded by darkness or blinded by light, soul-racking pain, cruel convalescence always surrounding him and coming back at him again.

But inside him, inside a tiny crevice they couldn't get to, he held her there. Olivia. He replayed images of her: the fall of her hair, the softness of her skin, the way she smiled around her wine glass, her fondness...no, fixation on popcorn. He replayed her. And the only thought that brought him a measure of peace in this unfathomable torment:

She must be ok. They had taken him instead.

They wouldn't keep him like this; they wouldn't torture him like this; if they had him then she must be ok...somewhere, out there. And that was fine. He had done right by her.

She was ok.

He had saved her.

She was ok.

He had saved her...

* * *

{A/N: Why hello there ;) And i'm back!

First off,_**Music1623, Clio1792**_and _**Knightly**_** Dreamer,** thank you especially for the love. Made me so excited to see your reviews and for sticking with me! This one is for y'all 3

To every other reviewer, i see you too! And I thank you. Every follow and favourite was like a gentle pat on the back saying 'That wasn't too shabby love. Keep on it!' So i'm here with my take on/of Season 3 from Olivia's other leading man's p.o.v, as a warm-up/ recap before Season 4 which comes back in a month! Yey. I'll post regularly, hold me to it! As always, tell me what works for you, what doesn't... this is for you too}


	2. Hi

{Episode Prompt - 302}

He knew this place. He had been here before – a lifetime ago. This was her home. Olivia. But why were they bringing him here? Why were they letting him out, and bringing him here?

Was this their final torment – were they going to kill her anyway and make him watch? Or had they already done it and were going to pin the murder on him? The possibility of even seeing her again – however this would possibly play out – he welcomed this respite, this break in the echo.

It was too much to hope that they were letting him go. They didn't operate like that. Once they made you, you were theirs. But for a moment, a mere glimpse...God help him, he could barely stand, he was covered in filth and he was pretty sure he had something living and growing on him. If this was a trick, some cunning ruse to break him, they would probably succeed. If they were letting him go...would he jinx it if he thought it?

The elevator, those soft lights, that plush carpet and that ornate chair in the corner...could this be real.

Then she opened the door: eyes wide, mouth agape, attached to a phone – yep, that was her! Leaning heavily against the door-frame, entirely overwhelmed by this moment and dreading with equal amounts of excitement and fear what would come next...

"Hi."

And he crumpled on her floor, trying to maintain eye contact with the tangible vision of the ethereal angel that had saved him in the Hole.

He was here, they had left and she was still there.

He was here. They had left.

He was here...

And this was real.


	3. Hero

{Episode Prompt - 303}

He was clean. The scraggly beard would survive for another day – he couldn't stand and Olivia couldn't hold him up...though she would never know how she sustained him in his mind.

She had let him lean on her, supporting him as best she could under her petite frame, and he had dropped into her bed, naked, battered and bruised. And just maybe, unless they dragged him back into the Hole, this time he would convalesce and truly heal...truly start to entirely heal.

He had never been in here. Her room. This bed. He had wanted it. Watching her on those feeds, he had imagined if the thread-count on those soft white sheets felt as if the gods themselves were wrapping you in soothing warmth as you slept. He would have to say yes: when he closed his eyes and the trauma of the Hole would rear itself behind his eyes, the incongruence of his dreadful ordeal and the softness that surrounded him would drag him back to reality. He was safe. He was in her bed. _Her_.

She was safe. She had allowed him into her home and she was looking after him.

The lurid recollections stayed with him all night: crawling forth from the shadows, slinking in from darkened corners and stealing his peace with every twinge of his bruised body. But she stayed with as well: she stayed with him all night; in her mesmerised vigil on the floor; in the calming, steadfast reality of her home. He was safe. She was watching over him.

He was safe.

She was watching over him.

* * *

He awoke, to find her gone, with a note detailing the layout of her house – it was kind of her to offer him that courtesy as if didn't know every inch and nook of that apartment.

He managed a bath – the shower revived memories he didn't want assailing him as he tried to start his day...too much like being held under, a steady stream of interminable water that was sure to drown him. He shook the memories away, tried to still his trembling hands on the basin, fought the haunting spectres that played before his eyes, revived in every cut, scratch and bruise mapping his body.

He had pulled on fresh clothing. He didn't trust his hands enough to risk shaving. He padded out to the kitchen, found a note stuck elegantly on the fridge, apologising for the lack of contents therein. There was a follow-up note, that groceries would be delivered and left at the door.

The soup had been a genius move – warm, nourishing and easy on his fragile digestion. He had slipped back into bed, and fallen asleep, awoken by the gentle vibrating of a phone beside him.

It took him a moment to recollect where he was, for the fog to dissipate from his brain. He welcomed nothingness to his recent memories. Groggy, and with a hint of trepidation he answered.

"Jake, I need your help."

* * *

Olivia had called, explaining where she was and what was going on. Anxiety scattered but rose back to fever pitch when she hinted at what had just happened, and explained what she needed him to do.

Pacing around the living room, he makes the call to Fitz.

"...no matter what we feel for Olivia personally..."

Jake shook his head, looking away in frustration. Fitz missed the point, again. This wasn't a pissing match, it wasn't solely about Olivia and him. Perhaps he was just hyper-sensitive to Ms Nesbitt's situation – that desire _to know the truth, not just the convenient bullshit one was fed for the sake of national security _–but all his Commander-in-Chief could see was another opportunity to dig a little more at Jake and continue this game of one-upmanship.

Frustrated and worried for her safety, he calls her back to let her know the outcome of the call. He implores her to get out of there, to leave and save herself...the Congressman be damned. The idea that her saviour-complex, of her banking so highly on being able to resolve this situation...

He considers for a moment, how sincerely he is concerned about Ms Nesbitt. And his concern stretches only as far as Olivia is concerned. He feels no shame in this. Olivia saved him, he doesn't know how but he knows she did it. She's all he sees.

When she asks him how he is doing, as if entirely oblivious to the danger she is in, his heart warms for her a little more. Extraordinary woman... she really is entirely focused on everyone else without seeing herself.

Unswayed, she thanks him for trying.

"Just get out of there!" He implores her one last time.

When she says she'll do her best, she's all professional, already weighing up what to say next to Ms Nesbitt about their failed attempt.

* * *

He's been glued to the TV, watching how the situation on the Hill played out. She returns, looking entirely drained and defeated. This is a side of the Fixer the world never sees – the fragile woman who has to bear the burden of people's failed aspirations and poor choices; who has to live with buried scandals or be on the frontline of catastrophic falls.

When she starts questioning why he came to be at her house, he's taken aback. Maybe she expected him to be gone when she returned. But then she stops that thought and instead clarifies, how he came to be there. She continues shooting him with questions: why was he there? How was he there? What was the plan this time...was it more surveillance...in aid of what...in service of her Father, to what end?!

From her frantic questions and desperate scrabbling for possible answers, he can feel the tension rolling off of her; her enquiries are fraught with unease and a palpable urgency to grasp a clear understanding of the situation. But he doesn't know. He sincerely does not know. And out of anxiety and nerves he tells her he doesn't know why he was let out but his eyes are pleading not to question why they let him out or even return to the idea of that nightmare. They stand, rooted to their truths. She looks at him, trying to read any deception in his eyes. He looks back at her, equally trying to convey the sincerity of his unknowing. He doesn't know why they let him go, but he will not look back and stare too deeply into that abyss, lest they pull him back into it.

She walks past him as if in a daze, sits on the couch and she tries to articulate her reservation and fear. He sits beside her, considers putting his hand on her knee, reassuring her of his presence. But he is about to return to that place, return to his nightmare and he doesn't want to draw her into that, even in recollection. He retells her of how she saved him – though he'll never know just how far she went: what favours she asked nor the devils she bargained with.

And at her confession that Command owned her too, that it was just a matter of time until _He _used Jake against her, her phone started ringing anew. That shrill unwanted announcer, ricocheting about them that Command is there between and amongst them.

And in that moment, the idea to free them all enters his mind. Whatever he feels for her, he cannot pursue until she is entirely free and that freedom will never come until Command is gone. And perhaps then, when _He_ is gone, she can see him for who he is, and not some asset being prepped to turn on her.

But the phone continues ringing, that strident sound engulfing them both...


End file.
